Quinn is the last surviving member of the Mercenary Dogs pack, and she's just become the Luna of the pack that destroyed her family. Her new mate is unworthy of her and there's something not quite right about her new pack. There's a secret they're a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Kyle had been right. The mate pull had been exceptionally high the following morning, so much so that she'd found herself wanting to kiss Drayven. Quinn avoided him after that like the plague; making sure never to be alone with him. That was easier than she thought it was. This pack had a lot of issues.
There was so much infighting she was amazed they managed to pull it together for attacks on other territories. The males were constantly going at it. It was almost the way things were when there was no alpha. It seemed like every minute she was breaking up a dominance battle.
The unmated females were terrified and nervous indicating they had been abused, and the mated females did nothing to help them. The entire pack was listless and tired as if not one of them had any energy at all. It was the strangest thing she'd ever seen. Right now she was preparing a cold rag for a young female who'd fainted. Fainted! Werewolves didn't faint!
Anytime she would ask Kyle what was going on he would just smile sadly and tell her it wasn't time yet. Things were getting more and more critical, though. It had been nearly a month since she'd gone on a job, and since then several pack members had fainted. They were all completely healthy with normal vital signs and no wounds. It affected the pack indiscriminately it seemed, except for her.
Drayven shut himself away from the pack but appeared to be doing his best to get her to let him mark her. It was almost like he was desperate for it. That would make sense, except that it wasn't instinct driving him, or the moon's compulsive need. It was a calculation.
Another thing she noticed was that their mate bond ebbed and flowed. It would be stable for days, and then begin to taper off until she didn't feel it at all. Then Drayven would disappear for a few hours and the next day it was strong again. Every time the bond was strong, the pack was weak. There was something so very wrong running in a vicious undercurrent in this pack. Something unnatural. Her wolf bared fang and growled in distaste whenever she noticed it.
She left the cold rag on the young female, checking her pulse. She was all right, but she'd be out for a while if experience were any indication. It was time for some answers. She made her way to Kyle, who was standing with the Omegas and the warriors.
"I want answers now, and do not tell me it isn't time yet." She growled, canines descending, and her eyes glowing gold. "That is the tenth female I've had to tend to. Werewolves don't just faint!" Kyle sighed and ran his hand across his buzz cut a few times.
"I..." He went silent for a moment, sharing knowing glances with the others. "Get the ring from Drayven Luna. Get the ring and put it on."
"Why?"
"Please just do it." He whispered.
"Tell me why. I'm sick of this cloak and dagger shit."
"Luna, if you get the ring, you take away Drayven's power. Then I will tell you everything." There was fear in his gaze, fear that was hand in hand with desperate hope. She thought carefully for a moment.
